Humanity

self-effacing humor.

oh god, i am so good at it. making less of myself, in a very funny way. always so funny. if there weren’t funny there, you might get concerned, and god knows, i don’t want any attention.

i was pawing through the junk corner to find a notebook to make a grocery list. It used to be just a junk drawer, but things have spread.

I found one, and in flipping to an empty page, i found some old writings, from back when i had time and a brain that was fluid and beautiful. there is no date but subject matter declares it to be several years old.

i’m going to quote from my own self here, there is no way to humbly quote oneself, so give me a pass today. context: i must’ve had an ugly/tense exchange with the ex via text, and was having the ugly/tense reaction privately in ink. It is not funny, as private doesn’t need that bit, does it? but I do love the imagery. Here it is:

Damnit. the time flows already, that wine river of regret. these things i want to be finished with, the list goes on and murders me firsthand with little to no hesitation.

the ex of course, i want to be done, to have no time in which i still have to cajole and negotiate with his ego.

to be done with doubt, to be done and finished and finally grown up, to be finished. my impatience is legion, doubts sway my progress and i fold and fold and fold in, like origami layered, no swan but a tank of layers, a solid block of onion skin. seems so doubt enters when i am self-effacing.

self-effacing. what a term. a thinning one does to oneself and how transparent will i allow myself to become as i go?

me.

Right? it seems an opposition, this tank of folding and self-effacing humor, but it isn’t… its just another game of hiding. Ooh boy, yes.

Humanity

Just give me a few hours in the morning.

I’m in my hammock, i’m typing in my hammock. Technology is confounding. it enables everything, and sucks everything dry. It has turned my brain to literal mush. but, i digress.

Its summertime. I mean, june used to be kind of spring-like, but with climate chaos and all, its summer. woohoo. kind of, right? its a little bit of a downer, really, but if you are running yourself into the ground, you don’t really have time to think about it.

But i do want to tell you this. i am typing in my hammock, and its the morning, and my kids are all at school and i’m done with most of what i need to do . … i even took care of a bunch of logistics, concerning their overnight stay at their dad’s tonight, permission slips/checks all left on the table to be collected and etc. etc.

I am a genie, but in nobody’s bottle baby.

I don’t need to be anywhere until 1:30, and I should be writing smut, or romantic erotica, if you feel like it, but the laundry is swinging on the line, my feet are happy to be at rest, and its all good, man.

I have a lot of things to say, and a lot of questions to ask, I really do.

One of my sons is mortified that i ask him to get rides home all the time. He says no one else does it. Is this true? Am I scandalous in my inability to drive all three all the places? Am I really? I can’t really do anything about it, but man, it feels shitty. I can’t tell if its just him or if he has a legitimate beef. He does not like me all the time these days.

But mostly, its an amazing time here. Summer. Kids will do a lot of fending for themselves this summer as I will be working six days a week. I feel unprepared but am making small motions towards getting them entertained. we will see. Summer is not really my favorite season. I know you are shocked and appalled but damn, its really true.

its hot, and getting hotter and i’m now full circle so i’m going to stop. here’s a photo of my hammock.

Yes, i know how sexy i am,. yes i do.

Love you guys. wish you all the love and support you need for whatever season you are in.

Humanity

I have a day off.

Except for one lacrosse game, which will be the only one of his I have seen all year. So I’m in it, fully. I actually enjoy lacrosse, its so much like hockey, so violent. (i don’t know anything about hockety, honestly, but i know sticks are used as bats and they are allowed to slam into each other. lacrosse is like that.) If my kid were small, I’d be terrified. As it is, he gets battered. Something about males, I know. but god, its so peculiar how much they love it.

And maybe its a female thing, that I sit and am okay with the brutality, from afar. I can deal with the aftermath just fine, and the distance allows me to feel safe that I am not involved. Weird, right?

So, on this day off, which is sort of sprung on me by my own inability to keep going, I have woken groggy from a night with a ceaselessly barking dog. As I am mostly deaf, you can imagine what a racket he was making. A herd of gazelle? A pack of coyotes? Coven of squirrels? I have no idea. It was forever. Anyhow, I am not feeling the joy of an opportunity day before me. I’m just tired and i suppose, a little grumpy.

I’m supposed to finish up a writing project today. I’d be satisfied with four thousand words. I need to move the story along substantially. But. So far I have made coffee. I have broken the lawnmower in a fairly substantially way, but only after finishing the front. So from the street, I look like I’m handling things just fine. It works for passers by, and it works for me. Its satisfying to drive in and see a little neatness. I’m going to try and fix it soon. wish me someone else’s luck.

I haven’t got final numbers from the plant sale yet, but I’ll be happy to have cash in hand. Maybe I’ll buy some chickens. ? I need to figure out the fencing situation though, I can’t let them free-range anymore, they are getting eat and hit and its just too much. (more brutality). I wish I could let them wander, as they really decimate the tick population. And I hate worrying about going out into grass. My god, this world.

(yeah, no, ticks are not the bigger problems i think we need to worry about. just to be clear.)

also. my washing machine doesn’t feel like spinning. so the clothing is sopping wet. and i need one of those wringers my grandmother used to have. where does one get a wringer these days, aye?

also. i know we all like johnny depp but why do we feel so glib about assuming he is not an abuser? seems like a popularity thing going on right now. its so weird and is making me feel very funny about the whole thing. haven’t we learned anything at all?

sigh. (does this count as writing if i bore several people right to death’s door?)

grayscale photography of front load washers
Photo by Adrienne Andersen on Pexels.com

Humanity

twitch

I only posted three times in the whole month of April. That seems like a rather extreme dropoff. On the flipside, it will be pretty easy to do more in May, and since this is now post #2, things are looking rosy.

My plant sale is in less than two weeks. I am all aquiver, my farmer is like, ‘yeah, lets put up a table and see what we have that’s big enough’. I may need to adjust my level of ‘get ready’, and by a lot. maybe this is the notoriously stoic new england farmer thing? i’m quiet but pretty far from stoic. epic, yes, but not stoic.

This week my chicken chores expanded a whole bunch, in helping the farmer move the birds from one coop to another. It was a lot. I realized my age and how far I am from being a farmer. It is good to remember how much they do, and how nonstop their work is, and then pay more for the food they give us, because we should. It costs more energy and life force to plant and grow a real-life cucumber than it does to make a hotdog. It really does. But hot dogs have so many machines involved, so much shipping, so many ingredients we should probably care a whole lot about. Why can we buy a whole pack of hotdogs for so cheap? Why? Eat more cucumbers. Put ketchup on it, I don’t care.

Roe v. Wade is about to be overturned. I never have had an abortion but don’t judge any one who has, because fertility and womb care is for each woman to do, forever and ever, amen. Intensely personal life choices are supposed to be private, and sacred. Now my daughter, my nieces? will not have access if they don’t want to have a baby? I guess the state I live in is more important than ever. If she stays here, it will always be an option for her. I guess if we go from electing a president who thinks grabbing pussy is a thing, it makes sense that we end up with less freedom over our own lives than we had before our pussies got grabbed.

Sigh. That just put me off my writing mood.

woman protesting for women s rights
Photo by Duané Viljoen on Pexels.com

Humanity

A list: what surrounds me

I’m not doing ‘well-considered’ lists today. this is off the cuff and fast. Ready?

  1. I’ve got an old agatha christie book at my feet, bought it at a savers, for its cool-ass cover. it was a bit of a trip to read, the way in which hercule poirot moves through the world and I can’t do anything but picture steve martin trying to say ‘hamburger’ again and again. (Funerals are Fatal)
  2. i’ve got my feet curled up by my side, the cotton socks and the dirty jeans a sign of how little i care for myself. I had to put on dirty jeans today, because i haven’t done my own laundry in a long damn time. good thing i work in dirt. that’s all I’m saying.
  3. i was part of a writing group this weekend and I’m glad about that. It felt really nice and nourishing to have people around my kitchen table, and i really do love people, all my introversion aside.
  4. people are truly fascinating, even when they are boring or totally fucked up. (noone was totally fucked up this weekend, i swear, or boring)
  5. we’re all pretty fucked up. there’s so much goddamned fear out there. its tough to get through the day without bumping into someone’s fear and anger.
  6. i’ve got an empty package of ‘candy kittens’, mango flavored gummies that I ate the other day. the wrapper still here. I want to say i used it as a bookmark but i think i might be lying and its just trash lying around my house.
  7. a mug of tepid coffee, reheated to try and get the chill out of my bones. this spring weather shit can just kiss my ass. its ‘almost’ worse than winter. my toes get wet, its windy, raw. the mess is seething. the world is burgeoning. i suppose its the slick gross of afterbirth or something majestic.
  8. fuck. i’m cold.
  9. i am swaddled in cotton, tee shirt, sweatshirt with hood pulled up and over my hat. i am sure i look ridiculous.
  10. I’ve got dinner in the crockpot and it already smells boring and mushy, and i cannot tell you how much i hate not looking forward to eating. maybe i’ll buy us a dozen donuts for dinner.
  11. my daughter’s tablet is here, and the pile of books next to me is topped by the scissors, which are literally never where they should be. today, they are here. They are a pair of willful bastards.
  12. I’m being held up by the pink velvet sofa. And I will always and forever be happy that I picked the two of them up off the side of the road, even if the cat is mauling them mercilessly. bitch. but i love them. hold me, sofa, hold me.

love you. thats my story and yes, i am sticking to it.

-lovelove